The Writerverse Collection
by Narkyze
Summary: A collection of one-shots written for various challenges at the writerverse community on livejournal.
1. The Truth In A Name

**Title:** The Truth In A Name  
**Author: **Narkyze  
**Fandom:** Harry Potter  
**Wordcount:** 673  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing(s):** None.  
**Warning(s):** Mentions of Mental Illness. Description of murder.  
**Prompt(s):** Psychopathic  
**Notes:** Written for writerverse livejournal Challenge #34: Mind Your P's and Q's.  
**Summary:** Tom Riddle contemplates his future.

* * *

Tom Riddle had been called many things in his relatively short life. Crazy. Sadistic. And even psychopathic.

Not that he minded, of course. Names were just that, and he could let them slide off his back like rainwater.

It was a skill that not many possessed, and he was proud to have it.

Yes, if Tom had to choose one of the muggle sins to describe himself, it would definitely be pride. And why not? He had much to be proud of.

The fifth year smirked as he stroked the head of his newest _pet_, the sixty foot Basilisk who resided in the Chamber of Secrets. She didn't have a name, not a proper one. He called her _sweetling_ and _darling_ and the like. Not very dignified, but he felt a sort of affection for the great serpent that he had never felt for another before.

She was his pet, his tool, and more importantly, he servant. She called him _master_, and Merlin if he hadn't felt a rush at that. It was better than sex, in his not-so-humble opinion. That blatant affirmation of his superiority gave him a high like nothing else. And that was coming from a Basilisk.

He couldn't imagine what it would sound like coming from the lips of a human.

The very idea gave Tom shivers, and a smirk appeared on his handsome face. Though he had played with the idea of not only having followers, but servants, before, for the first time it seemed not only plausible but desirable. Tom had always pictured himself as a loner, making no friends but only political connections, and working his way up through the Ministry of Magic until he was at a position to enact change.

But... maybe that wasn't the best route.

Tom had been watching Grindelwald's campaign eagerly, following the Dark Lord's every move. Perhaps it was his pride at work, but he couldn't help but think that he could do better, eventually, that is. He could easily point out many of the man's flaws both in strategy and ideology, and if a fifteen year old could do that, anyone could.

Shaking his head, Tom pocketed the blank journal that was on his lap. He had bought it that summer, and had his name engraved on it, with only one purpose in mind.

Though he had yet to try the killing curse, knowing that the use of unforgivables on Hogwarts ground would be easily detected by the Headmaster, he had another way to kill, a better way. And that girl, Myrtle, was always crying in his bathroom. He wouldn't even have to go far.

True, he didn't hold any particular hate for the girl, but if what he had researched was true, that would only make the spell more potent. A murder with no emotion, killing for the sake of it, death for no reason other than to fuel the spell, would be more powerful than a murder fueled by hate and thoughts of revenge.

"_Come along, beautiful._" he hissed, and the Basilisk followed him to the entrance of the Chamber. A quick levitating spell later, and he was leading the serpent up to the top, where he opened the door with a quick word, and stepped out onto the tiled floor.

"Hello?" he heard the girl call out.

Turning to his basilisk, he spoke. "_Kill her."_

As the girl opened the door to the stall, and made eye contact with the great serpent, she died.

And Tom felt a powerful surge of magic enter his body, and then pain, greater than he had ever felt, so strong that he couldn't force himself to scream, filled him.

He collapsed on the floor, panting. He didn't know how long he lay there, eyes closed and fingers digging into his palms. When he regained the strength to move, he sat up, looking at the diary. He could _feel_ it, feel the familiar magic in it.

Tom laughed. He laugh hard and long, almost hysterically.

Lord Voldemort had created a horcrux.


	2. A Greater Man

**Title:** A Greater Man  
**Author:** narkyze  
**Fandom:** Harry Potter  
**Wordcount:** 631  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing(s):** None.  
**Warning(s): **None.  
**Prompt(s):** Write from the Villain's perspective.  
**Notes:** Written for writerverse livejournal, Challenge #40: The Final Challenge (Challenge #02: Cue Evil Laugh)  
**Summary:** Lord Voldemort rescues Barty Crouch Jr. from his father's curse.

* * *

Wormtail, damn the man, lay quivering on the floor, blubbering out his pathetic apologies and begging for mercy.

The fool. Had he not yet learned? Voldemort was not a merciful lord.

"Yet again, Wormtail, you have failed me. Yet, you are the only servant of mine who has come to my aid. This is the only reason you are alive. Let it not be said that Lord Voldemort does not reward his followers."

"Yes, my lord, thank you, my lord." Wormtail mumbled out, not daring to look at his lord. Had he been a lesser man, Voldemort might have rolled his eyes. As it was, a small hand pinched the bridge of his nose, such as it was. If only a more competent, and dare he say it, more _brave_ follower had come to him. But of course, he was stuck with Peter Pettigrew, a traitor and a coward.

"What new do you have for me?" he asked, twirling his wand absentmindedly. He didn't expect anything particularly exciting, or worth his while, but he had sent the rat out to gather news, and that was what he wanted to hear.

The man looked rather pleased with himself, and against his will, Voldemort felt his interest peak.

"I have heard rumors, my lord, that the Triwizard Tournament may be revived. There is much talk of it among the ministry, as it would be hosted at Hogwarts."

This _was _interesting news. An event such at the Triwizard Tournament could prove advantageous to his plans.

But Wormtail looked even more pleased with himself as he spoke again, and Voldemort knew that more news was coming.

"I followed Bartemius Crouch home, hoping to hear more about it. But I found something that my lord may find interesting..."

"Get on with it, Wormtail!"

"Y-yes my lord. It seems that he is keeping his son, Barty, imprisoned in his home, under the _Imperius_ curse."

Ah, this _was_ news. Barty had been one of his most loyal followers, and has gone to Azkaban rather than renounce him. Voldemort had been almost sad to hear that he had died in the place.

But if he was alive, and guarded by only one man... "Yes, Wormtail, this _is_ excellent news. Well done."

The rare praise fell froms his lips easily, so pleased he was by the news, but his thoughts were far from the man before him. No, he was thinking of Barty.

"Come, Wormtail. We shall leave immediately, and _rescue_ Barty from his father. He will prove most useful."

Wormtail nodded, and stood. Impatiently, Lord Voldemort waited as the man lifted him up to cradle him in his arms, as if he was a child. It was a pathetic form that he was reduced to, but any body was better than none.

Lord Voldemort apparated them away, the Mark on Barty Crouch, Jr.'s arm allowing him track his location easily. He had not bothered to check his location before, assuming that it would be somewhere in an unmarked grave on the Isle of Azkaban. But, of course, it lead to a modest house in London.

Not bothering to knock, Voldemort easily broke through the powerful wards, and Wormtail opened the door, carrying him in.

A silent spell, and Barty Crouch Sr. was unconscious.

Voldemort impatiently found the red thread of magic leading from the father's mind to his son's, and snapped it, breaking the hold of the imperius curse. It was a tricky piece of magic for a lesser man, but for a master legilimens like him, it was as simple as a stunner.

Barty Crouch Jr. swiftly entered from another room, looking curious, grateful, and wary at the same time. His eyes widened as he saw Wormtail holding his bundle, and without question, he knelt.

"My Lord."


	3. Ace Reporter & Private Eye

**Title:** Luna Scamander, Ace Reporter & Private Eye  
**Author:** narkyze  
**Fandom:** Harry Potter  
**Wordcount:** 523  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing(s):** None.  
**Warning(s):** (highlight to reveal) Ginny/Harry; Cheating  
**Prompt(s):** Odd Woman For Hire  
**Notes:** Written for writerverse livejournal, Challenge #4 - An adjective, a noun, and a prepositional phrase walk into a bar...  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just playing in J.K.'s amazing world.  
**Summary:** When Harry has a problem, he goes to his old friend, Luna Lovegood.

There was a knock on the door. This was such an unusual occurrence _The Quibbler_ that even the owner and editor-in-chief, Luna Scamander, jumped at the sound from behind her desk.

One of her writers, a young lady who was muggleborn that believed that if dragons were real, anything was possible, stood and opened the door.

"Mr. P-potter... what are you doing here? I mean, how can I help you?"

Harry Potter was a legend. Everyone knew the name of the conquerer of the Dark Lord, of course, but at _The Quibbler_ he was even more famous. After all, it was Harry Potter who gave their small newspaper a name, Harry Potter who bothered to be interviewed by them, and Harry Potter who was their only celebrity endorser.

"I'm here to see Luna." he said. The voice was deep and hoarse, and if Luna, who was not-so-subtly eavesdropping, didn't know better, she would say that he had been crying.

"Come in, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Scamander's office is just that way." the writer said, pointing towards Luna's open door.

Harry nodded in thanks, and made his way through the room. Without asking, he shut the door to Luna's office behind him, and the curious writers, editors, and interns heard no more.

It was nearly three weeks later when Harry Potter came to the office of _The Quibbler_ again. He seems to be in much higher spirits this time, with a near skip in his step.

Without asking, he walked right into Luna's office, and shut the door behind himself. Settling down on one of the pale blue armchairs that she had for visitors, he crossed his legs at the knee, and looked at her expectantly.

"Luna! What do you have for me?" he asked cheerfully.

"We're not a detective agency, Harry. I don't know why you came to me." Luna replied, grinning a bit. Luna had toned down a bit since their school years, the war having taken it's toll on her rosy view of the world.

"But Luna." Harry said, suddenly serious. "I know you're the best in the business, even if you won't admit it. Who else would I go to but an ace reporter?"

Luna shook her head. Harry _hated_ telling strangers anything personal, and much preferred to remain within his group of friends and acquaintances. To everyone else, the auror was distant, and even cold.

"Many would disagree with you, Harry. _The Quibbler_ still has bit of a reputation, you know."

"Nevermind that. What did you find?" Harry was getting impatient.

For the first time, Luna let her feelings show. She shifted in her seat, a disturbed look on her face.

Harry shook his head. "No. It can't be true, what Colin told me."

Colin Creevey had gone on to be a photojournalist for _The Daily Prophet_, and as such was privy to all sorts of information before the public.

"I'm afraid it is, Harry. I trailed her personally, and, well, it's not pretty. I do have photographic evidence, but I don't think you should look at it."

"Who was it? Who was Ginny cheating on me with?"

"Draco Malfoy."


	4. Freedom In Chains

**Title:** Freedom In Chains  
**Author:** Narkyze  
**Fandom:** Harry Potter  
**Wordcount:** 542  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing(s):** None  
**Warning(s):** None  
**Prompt(s):** Unwanted Freedom  
**Notes:** Written for writerverse livejournal, Challenge #06: Weekly Quick Fic #2.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just playing in J.K.'s amazing world.  
**Summary:** Bellatrix reflects on her way to Azkaban

Bellatrix Lestrange stared down at her left forearm, where the mark that had once blaze black had faded to a sickly gray color. She was sitting in the boat that would take her to Azkaban, her ankles manacled together, as were her wrists. She could see the runes on the iron, and feel the magic that pulsed through the chains.

The guards weren't taking any chances with her, nor with the men who accompanied her. She glanced to her left, where her husband, Rodolphus, sat, in much the same state. Across from here were her brother-in-law, Rabastan, and her young protege, Bartemius Crouch, Jr.

The marks on their arms were faded, too.

Of course, Bellatrix knew why. Her beloved Master, the Dark Lord Voldemort, had been... _destroyed. _Defeated, by an infant, no less. At first, Bella hadn't wanted to believe such a vicious lie. Because there was no way that it could be truth

But as her Dark Mark had begun to fade, and the masses begun to celebrate, she knew that something had happened. Immediately, she had attempted to apparate to her Lord's side, to no avail.

She had gone to her husband, who's mark had turned gray, as well. He, in turn, had gone to his brother, who proved to have the same ailment. Young Barty was the only other Death Eater to be found, so they gather him up, and made a plan.

They would avenge their master, oh yes. But first, they had to discover what happened to him, and revive him. The Lord Voldemort had often told them that he had discovered the secrets of immortality, and the four believed him.

But their lord had never told them what to do in such a situation.

Knowing that their lord had considered going to the Longbottom's, as well as the Potter's, it seemed logical to start there. To them, anyway.

So they had gone to the Longbottom's manor, broken through the formidable wards, and tortured the young mother and father until they confessed. Well, perhaps they had gotten a _tad_ too zealous. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom had ended up insane, and they had been caught by the Ministry.

The trial had been pointless. Bellatrix was proud of what she had done. Her husband and brother-in-law were as well.

Bartemius had surprised them by professing his innocence, begging his father to let him go free.

Bellatrix had thought it disgusting, to deny their lord. She would never do such a thing. But Barty was young, she supposed, and still somewhat naive. She could forgive him. The question was, would her lord? Once he had returned, that it.

The manacles that bound her were suddenly very, very cold.

Bellatrix shivered, and looked up. There it was, looming in the distance. _Azkaban_.

The small boat had arrived.

As Bellatrix was roughly pulled out of the boat, and pushed towards the prison, one last sane thought fluttered through her mind.

She may be in prison, now, but she was free of her master. And that was a sort of freedom that she never wanted.

Then the dementors appeared, and Bellatrix Lestrange fell into a dark and twisted sleep.

She would only wake 13 years later, when her mark burned black once more.


End file.
